Does It Ever Get Better?
by Sing-it-4-the-w0rld
Summary: itsjustpolly. tumblr. com/ post/12252933883/a-yellow-ribbon-stands-for-two-things-support-our    Read the post    This is a fic in response to said yellow ribbon. TRIGGER WARNING
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: In response to the possibility of the yellow ribbon on the toolbox at Burt's garage being a ribbon for teen-suicide and Burt saying that Glee saved Kurt's life._

**Trigger warning: dark thoughts, cutting, alcohol and drug abuse, od. Please do not read if this is a trigger. If you need help or someone just to talk to, I'm here for you.**

3 ½ years ago, Kurt Hummel's freshman year of high school.

I didn't know things could get any worse than they were in middle school. The guys were teasing me about my voice still being high and squeaky. I always got picked last for everything whether it be gym class or partner work in biology. No one wanted anything to do with me. There were a couple girls who would occasionally say hi to me, but I knew they were trying to keep their own reputations up.

My first day of the ninth grade made me realize that middle school was just an appetizer to the abuse I would be put through. I don't know how people knew which locker was mine before I even knew, but when I found it, it had already been defaced.

I wanted to clean the offensive pictures off, but knew I couldn't be late to my first class. I ran to French, having high hopes that it would be full of girls to befriend and maybe a few nice boys who wanted to actually be able to speak the language. I was partially right – I entered the room and was greeted by full seats and a tough looking guy in a letterman jacket yelling out "Ohé garcon joli, Est-ce que tu rends avec moi?" The rest of the class laughed as I held back tears and went to the broken desk in the back corner. I was still in denial about my sexuality and was already getting teased about it.

I didn't pay attention during class at all; I was working too hard at not crying, screaming, or running out of the room. I wanted to get out of there quickly, but knew if I rushed out I would get trampled, so I slowly packed up my bag, waiting for the class to be empty before rushing off to Biology.

The rest of the day went pretty much the same way French did. I got taunted, pushed in to lockers, and had slushies thrown on me. Half the times there were no teachers around, but when there was they simply turned a blind eye, acted like I wasn't being used as a human punching bag.

When I got home my dad asked how school had been. I hurriedly told him it was great as I ran downstairs to change before he saw my ruined clothes. I couldn't tell my dad what was going on, that would mean I would have to admit the teasing hurt, which meant it was true. Was I gay? I didn't know, all I knew was I didn't like the jeers I received just because I wasn't a tough-guy.

I called up the stairs to dad telling him I was super tired from school and was going to take a nap. I locked my door then went to my bathroom, locking that door too. I found my razor under the sink, and ran it across my skin for the first time, but not as it should have been used – no I would probably never need it to shave – instead I ran it across my arm, feeling control for the first time that day.

_A/N: Should I keep going? Or is it horrible? Let me know _


	2. Chapter 2

From August through November it was the same thing, day after day. I would get taunted, beat up, and have things stolen out of my locker. I never cried at school, instead waiting until I got home. Luckily my dad had started staying at the shop later, so I didn't have to tell him lies about why I was going downstairs instead of talking to him.

I had never been more thankful at Thanksgiving than I was this year. I had a week off of school – one glorious week without a slushie facial or my back ending up bloodied from locker shoves.

I had been looking forward to holiday breaks because of this knowledge, but I had forgotten just how depressed I got during the holidays - I hated having to celebrate family time without my mother, and this year was going to be the hardest. After the most horrible three months of my teenage life I just wanted to have my mom wrap me in her arms and tell me it would be ok, but I couldn't.

And I didn't know how to talk to dad about this. I know he loves me, but I can't help but think he'll tell me to "man up" or to "net let it phase me".

Monday of Thanksgiving week I awoke from a restless sleep, went upstairs, and noticed dad was already gone. I tried to read a bit, but couldn't get lost in the book. I looked around the living room and saw that dad had left a mostly full bottle of beer sitting by his chair. I went over and took a sip – not the best tasting stuff, but it was ok. After I finished it I decided it was more than ok, and went to the fridge to have another. After my third I had forgotten why I started drinking, which meant it was working.

I guess I was passed out when dad came home, because the next thing I knew I woke up in a hospital room and was handed a cup of some murky looking liquid and told to drink. I then emptied the contents of my stomach and went back to sleep. That was the first time I almost died of alcohol poisoning.


	3. Chapter 3

When I woke up the second time I was handed a cup of water and told to drink. I had yet to see my dad, but knew he was disappointed in me. While lying in the dimly lit hospital bed I wished I had died. Knowing what I did to dad was worse than dealing with the pain that drove me to drink.

I didn't get a chance to go back to sleep after downing the water – the same nurse that had handed me the water came back in with a man holding a clipboard. He came over, checked the plastic bracelet on my wrist, looked at the paper on his clipboard, and then addressed me. "Kurt Hummel?"

"Uh, yea. That's me." I said, not meeting his eyes.

He sat down as he said"I'm Dr. Pearce." He took a breath before asking his next question, "So, Kurt, care to tell me why your blood alcohol level was at point-nine-five?"

"Oh, um, I guess I just didn't realize how much I was drinking." It was partially true. I didn't really want to drink that much, I just kept drinking until I passed out; it's not really something I had planned on doing.

"Kurt," Dr. Pearce started, "Why were you drinking in the first place? Your dad said it's very uncharacteristic of you."

"You talked to my dad?" The question was out of my mouth before I realized I had wanted to know the answer. I wished I could take it back, I was showing Dr. Pearce too much emotion; now was not the time to let someone in.

Dr. Pearce didn't seem fazed by the question though, "Yes, he's really concerned. Said you haven't ever had behavioral issues at home or school. He wanted me to find out why were drinking, he feels like he's responsible that you were able to drink in the first place."

I didn't want dad to get in trouble for me drinking. And I didn't really want to say why I was drinking, so I said the first thing I could think of, "Oh well, I mean, he's an adult he can have beer at home. I guess I was just bored and saw it there, and wanted to give it a try. And you know how these things go, drink one, think you're ok. Drink a second, think a third won't hurt. After that I guess I forgot how many I had and just kept going back for more. But really, it's not dads fault. I mean, it was even early in the day when I started drinking, it's not like he had been gone very long. I guess I was just irresponsible." I hoped that my rambling would keep dad out of trouble. I mean, here I was, 15 years old, and possibly getting my dad in trouble for letting me have access to beer.

Dr. Pearce wrote something on the clipboard before standing. "Well Kurt, it seems like you were lucky you dad came home when he did. We wouldn't want your first drinking experience to have been deadly. We're going to watch you for a few more hours, make sure there isn't anything wrong inside, and then you're free to go. Your dad said he would be here around 5, when he closed the shop. I'm writing you a referral to an alcohol clinic that specializes in youths and drinking. I want you to attend a meeting once a week for six months, just as a precaution." He shook my hand and then left.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. How the guy hadn't figured out I had meant to die was a shock to me, but it was ok, because I know had a second shot at it.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: As always, trigger warning. Also, an OC enters, but it won't be a major character, just needed a person. :D**

Thanksgiving came and passed without any major incidents. Dad had a four day weekend for the holiday, so I was forced to be social with him. He had invited a couple guys from the shop to come over on Friday to watch some game, and one of them brought his son. Jonny looked like every other jock I had ever met: tall, muscular, dark hair and eyes, and a stupid look on his face, like he had been hit with a football one too many times and couldn't remember his own name. I was intrigued by him though, when he started talking about singing in the school musical. I guess I hadn't paid much attention to what was going on at school, because I didn't know we were putting on a musical this year.

"Yea, Mr. Ryerson is a little weird, but I'm working with him so I can get into a good college. Some of the school's give out bigger scholarships to athletes that are also in a preforming arts group."

I didn't want to come off too eager, but I was interested in the different arts groups we had at McKinley. "So, uh, Jonny, other than the musical and football what do you participate in? I mean, I didn't even know we had a theatre group." I didn't look at any of the men in the room as I spoke, not wanting to draw attention to myself any more than I already had.

"Oh, well, I'm part of the school's Glee Club, but it's a little dull. I mean, we have a new freshman girl that has been trying to take over, but the rest of us are seniors, and Mr. Ryerson is so focused on the musical that he doesn't really make us do much. And we're too small to compete, so we just sing for an hour twice a week after school." He said all of this without taking his eyes off the game. The other men didn't even seem to notice he was speaking. Sometimes I wish I were more of a guy like them, interested in sports and such.

I decided to go down to my room, as Dad wasn't paying me any attention. I hadn't sung since our required fine arts class back in seventh grade. Before going to some glee club I would need to practice. I could only do that when the house was empty though, I couldn't let Dad know I was more of a pansy than he already thought I was.

I started going through my iTunes music to get a playlist of songs together that I was pretty sure I would be ok on. Then I saw a list I had put together over the summer: I'm a Freak. I pressed play, and the opening notes of "The Sound of Silence" started.

I didn't care that my dad was home, or that guests were upstairs. They didn't really care about me, they wouldn't even realize I wasn't in the room until at least halftime, by then I would be cleaned up and probably sleeping, no one would be any wiser.

I took the razor blade from my cabinet and sat on the toilet. As the lyrics came out of my speakers

"Fools" said I, "You do not know

Silence like a cancer grows.

Hear my words that I might teach you,

Take my arms that I might reach out you."

I cut into each arm; just enough to see the shining blood drip down my wrists onto the white tile below me. I let them slowly bleed, not caring about the mopping I would have to do later. Hearing this old song, and feeling part of me leave my body, put me into a trance of sorts.

I don't remember falling asleep, clutching the razor in my hand, cutting it open without meaning to. When I finally opened my eyes, I was back in the cold hospital room. Bandages on my arms and my right hand, Dad slumped in a chair. I had only been out of the hospital four days, and I was back. Great.

**A/N: For those of you still with me, thank you. I'm wanting to work up to the point of Kurt joining New Directions, working through his suicidal tendencies that year, and then season 3, when Burt talks about ND saving him… and of course Kurt will talk to Blaine about all of this… just so you all know where the story is headed.**

**Song is The Sound of Silence by Simone and Garfunkel. Pretty good song. :D**


	5. Chapter 5

I lay in the hospital bed, listening to the ticking clock for a good twenty minutes before a nurse strolled in.

"Oh good, you're awake. Dr. Pearce is making his rounds and I'm sure he would like to speak to you." She said all this while taking my vitals, but didn't even try to act like she cared how I really was doing. See, this is why I did it all, no one cared – not even people who were paid to care could bring themselves to worry about me. I was a nobody.

After the nurse left to get Dr. Pearce I took to staring at the clock again. I knew what time it was, just after three in the afternoon, but I didn't know what day it was. A board hanging on the wall said November 24, but that didn't tell me how long I've been in here, I don't remember the date of Thanksgiving, or when I was found with the cuts. Time basically meant nothing to me.

I didn't notice Dad wake up, but suddenly I saw his burly form get up, rush over to me and engulf me in a hug, while tears ran down his face. I didn't know what to do or say, I just let him hug me, although it was really awkward, Dad and I didn't ever show each other affection.

I heard a knock on the door and Dad untangled himself from me. I looked over and saw the same man I had seen not too long ago. Dr. Pearce gave me a weak smile before turning to my dad.

"Mr. Hummel. I'm sorry to be seeing you so soon again. Do you mind if I speak to Kurt alone?"

"Oh, no Doc, I think it would be better this way. I'll just go grab something to eat." He then turned to me, "Kurt? You want anything?"

Seeing as I hadn't eaten in what I assumed to be days, I was kind of hungry, but I didn't want to eat. I knew after today I wouldn't have access to razors, so I had already decided what my next plan would be, and eating was not going to help execute said plan.

"Uh, no, I'm sure the hospital will bring in food at some point. I'm good." I plastered a fake smile on my face, hoping I came across as genuinely ok.

Dad just nodded as he walked out the door, leaving me with Dr. Pearce. He slid the chair over towards my bed, flipped open his notepad and started talking to me, writing occasionally as we talked.

"So, Kurt, I'm a little disheartened to see you back so soon. Let's not talk about why you are here. Why don't you tell me about your life, what's going on at home, school, with friends."

"I don't have any friends to talk about." I said before I realized what came out of my mouth. "Shit, I mean, I don't want to talk about my friends."

Dr. Pearce just nodded and wrote on his notepad as he talked, "Ok, so skip the friends, how is school? Making good grades?"

"Yep, I've had a four-point-oh all through middle school and it's continued into high school. School's really not that hard; actually, it's quite boring. There's no challenge, nothing to spur me to do better. As a freshman I'm stuck in all sorts of introductory courses, there's no A.P. courses, they wouldn't even let me take something meant for a sophomore because it's 'above my grade level' even though everyone knows I could handle it." Yes, I just admitted I don't like school, maybe it would get me out of there, away from my tormentors.

"So, is your behavior in retaliation to being bored at school? Are you trying to be a bigger and badder person at home?"

I just rolled me eyes, I wasn't rebelling, I was just trying to forget. "Um, no, it's not like that. The drinking, like I said, was just because I saw it there and wanted to try. And this," I looked down at my arms, "This was a mistake. I went in the bathroom, saw the razor, and it just happened. I'm not really sure why." I couldn't let him know it was planned, that I had been wanting to mark my skin, show how impure I was.

"I see. Well Kurt, I'm going to have to speak to your father more, and I think we should all sit down and have a discussion, but it is my recommendation that you not go back to your school, at least not right away. Maybe try homeschooling, or a private school, after the holidays of course. Between now and Christmas though, you will be doing your schooling in the rehab clinic. Your father has already looked into it, and we think it's best for everyone. But, like I said, we'll talk about it more when your father gets back."

He shook my hand, put the chair back, and left the room without another word. I was stunned. I was going to rehab? For what? Just because I cut? What happened to taking away sharp object and letting me live my life? I didn't want to be locked up like a crazy person. I had to get my dad to agree not to send me there. I started thinking of a plan, something to show him I wasn't going to hurt myself.


	6. Chapter 6

It was over an hour later when Dad came back in. It was clear that he and Dr. Pearce had spoken; his eyes were red and puffy. I didn't know what to say to him – sorry didn't seem appropriate. He didn't say anything to me for a good ten minutes, just sat in the chair and stared at a spot above my head while I looked at the wall next to him. When he finally spoke I knew I wasn't going to like what he had to say.

"Tomorrow you leave for a month long of treatment. The center doesn't normally work with teens that have problems other than drugs or alcohol, but a counselor is going to come and meet with you. I'm going to pack you a few things tonight and I'll be here in the morning to drive you to Columbus. Please don't stay mad at me too long, it's for your best interest. We'll discuss school when you get back." He said all this without looking at me. He turned to leave, but before he walked out the door he finally met me eyes, "I love you, son." He then walked out into the hall and tears silently streamed down my face.

-0-0-0-0-

That night I didn't sleep. All I could think of was how I would have to stay alive for the next month, pretending to get better, knowing I was hurting Dad, when all I wanted was for him to forget about me like everyone else had. I didn't like the fact that I was making things hard for him, but I couldn't see how things were ever going to get better for me. I had no friends, the teachers were almost as bad as the kids at school, classes were boring, and as much as I loved Dad, I really didn't have a family. I didn't have anyone to talk to. And while I'm not a kid who "plays", I don't have anyone to "play" with. I knew that guys at school would hang out at each others houses and play video games or throw a football around or something, but I never got that interaction, whether with friends or siblings. I guess that's what this really comes down to, I'm lonely, and Dad can't fix lonely.

-0-0-0-0-

When Dad showed up promptly at 9:15 I knew we weren't going to talk much. He handed me a duffle bag, signed me out of the hospital, and walked in front of me to the car. The almost 2 hour drive was almost unbearable. Dad turned on some talk show and I had no choice but to listen to it, as Dad hadn't given me my iPod.

Promptly at 11 we entered the parking lot for the rehab center. While I was thankful I could stop listening to some woman drone on about our countries political downfalls, I was not thrilled to be standing in front of this building. I grabbed my small bag and followed Dad through the glass doors. We were promptly met by an older woman whom looked to be the receptionist and two male nurses. The nurses sat down on a small couch near the doors. The woman addressed my father, but was obviously avoiding looking at me.

"You are Mr. Burt Hummel?" she asked Dad. "Identification for both you and your son please." she said while handing Dad a clipboard. He passed her two small cards and took the clipboard. "Please fill this out completely."

Dad motioned for me to sit down next to him as he started filling out the paperwork. I sat there looking at the black clock on the stark white wall and hating how obscenely clinical it looked. About five minutes later Dad handed the clipboard back to the woman.

Not long after that the woman called Dad over to her desk again. I heard snippets of the conversation, "daily phone call", "social interaction", and "close monitoring" were a few phrases I caught. As Dad turned away from the desk the nurses got up from the couch. The met at the chair I was seated in.

"Well kid, I guess this is goodbye. I was told that you'll get to call me on Friday nights, so I guess I'll talk to you in a few days. Love you." He clapped me on the shoulder and walked out the door that the nurses were still somewhat blocking.

Once he was gone one of the nurses took my bag and passed it to the receptionist. Then, with one nurse on either side of me, I was walked through a small door and shown to what would be my room for the next month.

If I had known that a room could get worse than a hospital room I would have made damn certain I had died before now. All white walls, a single twin bed with white sheets, a white blanket, and one white pillow, a white wood dresser with curved edges, and a small window at the top of the wall is all the room contained – not even a clock so I could countdown my time until I was out of this wretched place.

I made a promise to myself that when I got out of here I would never come back.

-0-0-0-0-

The next month went by slowly, but I was such a great actor that there was no reason for them to keep me any longer. I spent day after day meeting with different doctors, counselors, and specialists. Seeing as I had only one bad experience with cutting and drinking each, and no drug problems, there wasn't much for them to do. I kept repeating that it was a one time thing, that I didn't really mean to do it, that I didn't ever want to see my father look at me like that again, and it seemed to help. The only thing that was really bad about this place was that I had to talk to other people. I thought my life was bad…

Girls younger than me were twitching because of drug withdrawal, guys bigger than any of the jocks at school were yelling about needing a drink before they knife someone… I had never been in a place like this, and I was being forced to talk to these people. I met one girl who was slightly saner than the rest. She was in for repeated marijuana offences, nothing as bad as the crackheads at the next table. Sadly, she got out two weeks before me. The last couple weeks I flitted from table to table, never talking to the same person twice. The last day, however, I went in, said hi to everyone, and then went back to my white prison cell. I didn't want to socialize anymore, and I didn't have to – Dad was waiting with my iPod in hand.

**I'm so sorry I left this story (and my others) hanging. Work and school took over my life. I'd like to say I'll be more consistent, but I got a management position at work, so it's highly unlikely I'll be writing a lot. I'm going to try and finish this story in the next three weeks before classes start back up though. Thank you all for subscribing to this story, it means a lot to me, knowing that people read this and liked it enough to want more.**


	7. Chapter 7

For the first time since I was about twelve I gave my dad a genuine hug. He chuckled and whispered, "It's good to see you kiddo" as we walked down the hall to the reception desk. He signed me out and I left that horrible building. I settled in to the front seat, music blaring in my ears. Before I knew it dad was tapping my shoulder and I opened my eyes, I was home. I quickly ran from the driveway to the porch, but then had to wait for Dad to unlock the door before I could run down to my bed.

As soon as I heard the door clicked I pushed past Dad and made my way to my room, jumping onto my soft queen size bed like a little kid. As I lay on my stomach, breathing in the familiar smell of vanilla and lavender that I had missed, Dad quietly walked in. I turned my head in the direction of the door to look at him.

"Hey kid, mind if I come in?" I was all set to reply with a snappy comeback about it being his house, but decided to play nice instead.

"Sure." I said as I sat up and made room at the foot of my bed for him to sit.

Dad looked around my room, eyes settling anywhere but on me as he began the obviously rehearsed speech. "I know you're having a difficult time at school, even if you won't talk to me about it. Next semester you will be staying at home to study, but you will go to school to take your tests in the guidance counselor's office. Your sophomore year we're going to try to get you back to school full-time, but you will need to be in some sort of group or club, get to know people who have similar interests to you. Hopefully that will help you with your, um, problem. But, uh, right now it's Christmas bud. Get dressed for a nice dinner; we're going to Dr. Pearce's for Christmas dinner." He walked out – leaving me open-jawed. I get home and am told I'm going to have to see my doctor in a non-hospital situation… see his family? Great.

I went to my closet and pulled out what I thought was a pretty bland outfit, but would do; just a pair of black jeans, white button-up, and my black combat boots. It felt nice to be in more fashionable clothes than what Dad had brought for me at the clinic.

I went upstairs to see Dad in his recliner, head in his hands. I cleared my throat loudly and he quickly got up, "All set? Will you grab the pie out of the fridge please?" I rolled my eyes as I went to the kitchen, grabbing the obviously store-bought pie, before heading to the car. The drive to the Pearce's was quiet, save for the soft Christmas music coming out of the radio. I wasn't very religious, much to my father's dismay, so I didn't really like Christmas, and I tried to tune to the music out. Luckily it wasn't a long drive to the doctor's house. When we got there we were greeted by a pretty blonde that I had seen on the cheerleading squad at school.

"Hi! I'm Brittany. Dad's in his study." She turned to me, "Hey, want to meet Lord Tubbington?" She grabbed the pie out of my hands, handed it to a woman I assumed to be her mother, took my hand in hers, and pulled me up the staircase. I had never actually spoken to this girl before in my life, and now I was in her room, on her bed, listening to her ramble on to a deathly obese cat.

Dinner was an interesting affair. My father and Brittany's parents talked about their work lives, they obviously had nothing in common but were still able to hold a conversation, something I wished I knew how to do. Brittany was simultaneously eating off her plate, while cutting up pieces of turkey and ham for Lord Tubbington to eat from his plate next to her. I barely ate anything, but since I didn't put much on my plate to begin with, no one noticed.

When we were ready to leave Brittany came up to me and gave me a bone-crushing hug. "I like you Kurt. You don't say much, but it's better than the guys who come over and ask me to put on my cherrios skirt for them. Maybe we can hang out more? Lord Tubbington told me he really likes you. And, well, I heard my dad and your dad talking about how you aren't going to come to school for a little while, and I'm sad, because you're really cool. So, maybe when you do come back, we can be friends there too? Is that ok?" This blonde cheerleader really wanted to be my friend? I mean, what could it hurt?

"Uh, sure Brittany. That would be nice. Um, anytime you want to come over just give me a call. I'll probably be home." She hugged me again as I went to walk out the door and she whispered in my ear, "Don't try to kill yourself again. I'd be sad." And with that she closed the door and I was left in the cold December air staring at the car with my mouth open.


	8. Chapter 8

When Dad and I got home I promptly went to bed. All I could think about was what Brittany had said, how could someone who barely knew me be sad if I died? She had never even met me before today.

As I tried to go to sleep I thought about what it would be like to have a friend at school, someone to talk to during lunch, maybe study with after classes were over for the day. Then I thought about what it would be like to have a friend come to the house; what would we do? I don't own any games; my computer is about to die it's so ancient; I guess we could watch tv. Before I could think any more about it I was asleep, as the next thing I knew Dad was waking me up.

"Hey bud, I'm heading to the shop. I'd like to see you there around noon. Part of your schooling has to include a job, and I want to get you trained before January. Your coveralls will be hanging in the office when you get there." Before he walked out I registered what he had said and had a question for him. "How do you expect me to get there?" There was a gleam in his eye as he said to just head out at ten to twelve.

-0-0-0-0-

I did as Dad told me; I dressed in sweats, an old t-shirt, and my ratty gym shoes, through Dad's Ohio State hoodie on, and walked outside promptly at 11:50 for the mile walk to the shop. Before I got past my driveway though I saw a red convertible pull up and roll one of the windows down. There sat Brittany. "Hey, your dad said you were going to work this afternoon and would probably enjoy a ride. Wanna get in?" She didn't have to ask me twice, it had snowed the night before and was freezing out.

She rambled on for the three minutes it took to get to the shop. I don't know what she was talking about, something about Santana and Puck and the beach. I didn't know who she was talking about, so I tuned her out. When I saw Dad's shop though, my eyes brightened, he had never let me come in before, and here I was. I leaned over and gave Brittany a hug, because I knew she would want one, and thanked her for driving me. Then I walked in to the door marked OFFICE, pulled on the coveralls that had my name embroidered on them, and went to find Dad.

-0-0-0-0-

I liked working at the shop. I found that working on cars was pretty monotonous work, but at the same time somewhat challenging. The first week of January I had a class to take on basic car repair, oil changes, tire rotations, that kind of stuff. Once I passed I could get paid to work at the shop.

Needless to say, I not only passed, but I aced it. I was now a paid, ten-hour-a-week, auto technician. From January through May I spent my mornings studying, my afternoons at the shop, and my evenings either singing or hanging out with Brittany when she wasn't with Santana or Puck. Every Friday I had to go to school for testing, but it was ok, I got to see Brittany more, as she would sit outside the guidance counselors office to hug me before I went back home.

-0-0-0-0-

While I was feeling better about myself, especially since I had a friend, I still wasn't what you could call "happy", and I was still controlling the one aspect of my life I could: my eating habits. I didn't eat much, some days I didn't eat anything. I knew Dad didn't notice, or he would have said something. I was proud of myself though; I was under 100 pounds. Yea, sometimes it was hard to carry some of the heavier parts at the shop, but I figured I just needed to work out more.

The summer between my freshman and sophomore year I would go to a local gym in the mornings and get a work-out in. Nothing much, a little bit of jogging, some free-weights. I would then work a four hour shift at the shop, pulling in twenty hours a week. I had recently turned 16, was allowed a real "part-time" job now, and Dad had bought me an Explorer for said birthday. Everything was going great, and I was ready to go back to school with Brittany by my side. That was until the one June day when I collapsed while carrying a battery to a Ford f250.

**Yes, I have uploaded quite a bit the last 12 hours… I'm working my butt off to finish this story. I know where I want to be with it, I just have to work on getting there… consider this a late Christmas present :D**


	9. Chapter 9

I woke up in a hospital room again. Brittany's dad was talking to my dad over in the corner by the door.

"So, uh, why am I here?" I asked. They both turned to look at me, Dad with a sad look on his face, Dr. Pearce masking his feelings with his "doctor" look. He turned to look at Dad, who took a seat in the chair by my bed. Dr. Pearce came to the other side of my bed and looked down at me before speaking.

"Kurt, I know you've been feeling better about yourself as the year went on, however your diet is lacking and I don't think it's because your father isn't feeding you. What is the last thing you remember eating?"

I thought back to the last thing I remember. I was at Dad's shop working on a truck. That morning I had gotten up at 6, gone to the gym until around 10, went home and ate an apple before going to the shop at 11. I didn't even think to lie to Dr. Pearce about my eating habits, "Um, I think it was an apple."

"Kurt, you have to eat more than an apple a day." Dr. Pearce started, but I interrupted him.

"I know that, it's just what I had eaten at the time. I eat dinner when Dad cooks." I looked at my father sitting next to me, and had never seen him look more defeated in my life.

"Kurt, I need you to be honest with us. Have you gotten better since last fall when I first met you?"

I didn't even have to think about the question, "Yes, I'm ready to go to school, make friends, live my life."

Dr. Pearce looked at my face, clearly trying to decide if I was lying. He spoke softly, "Then Kurt, we have to get you healthy, so you CAN live your life. You're too thin, and an apple, plus dinner, isn't giving you enough energy. I have a doctor on staff who is a nutritionist. She's going to meet with you this afternoon, set up a good diet and exercise regiment. I need you to not skip out on your meals, or you will end up back in here, and I don't want that Kurt." He actually looked a little sad as he said this.

He left the room, and dad stood up, towering over me. "Kurt, I'm sorry I didn't realize what was happening before. I'm sorry you ended up back in here. We'll work through this.

-0-0-0-0-

Later that afternoon a small Asian woman entered my room. She introduced herself as Dr. Cohen-Chang, my nutritionist. We talked about healthy portion sizes, what foods were good for me, what foods I should eat sparingly, but still needed, and how often I should exercise. I agreed to meet with her once a week to show her my food diary, a book that I would record what I ate in.

-0-0-0-0-

The last eight weeks of summer vacation went by quickly. I had started to gain some of my weight back, now I was at 105. I felt fat, but didn't tell anyone. I was starting to get depressed again, but that was partly because Brittany had gone to cheer camp and I had no one to talk to. I was starting to worry about school starting in mid-August. What if Brittany forgot that she would be my friend at school?

The day before classes started I told Dad I wasn't feeling well. I stayed in bed all day, didn't eat, didn't go to the shop, didn't do anything, except pick out my fabulous outfit for tomorrow. Even if I was alone tomorrow, I would be alone in style.


	10. Chapter 10

I woke up bright and early at 6 am to the sound of my phone buzzing in my ear. "Who the hell?" I ask groggily as I look at the screen: BRITTANY

"Hi Brittany. May I ask why you are calling this early?"

"Kurtsie, it's your first day back at school. I'm calling to let you know I'll be there in fifteen minutes with coffee and an apple to drive you to school. I just found out that we're in the same Geometry class. I can't wait!" She hung up before I could a word in edgewise. I had to hurry, my facial routine took thirty minutes usually, and I only had twelve left until Brit was here.

I managed to cut the routine down to 8 minutes, leaving me four to get in my clothes and downstairs for some toast, I had to get my carbs in or Dr. Cohen-Chang would cut down my exercise time.

I was finishing up the toast as I heard the horn of the now family convertible blare. Bye Dad I yelled as I heard his bedroom door open. I grabbed my bag that was lying by the front door and went out to meet Brittany. That was the first time I came face to face with who had to be Santana.

The pretty Latina girl gave me a look of death as she got out of the car to let me in the backseat. "Brit-Brit, who is this ladyfaced nobody you're driving around?"

"Oh San, don't be mean, this is Kurtsie. Isn't he cute? He's one of my friends, I told him I'd be nice to him at school, he needs people to be nice to him."

I could see Santana's eye roll from the backseat it was that prominent, but she quietly huffed out "ok" as Brittany drove to school. Brittany got a parking spot close to the building, one of the perks of being a cheerleader. When we got out she gave me a hug, not caring that the jocks were calling out to her or that Santana was waiting with an extended hand for her. "Kurtsie, I'm gonna miss you til fifth period. If you get in any trouble text me."

I only nodded, not trusting my voice. I hoped that being seen with Brittany would make the jocks leave me alone, no such luck. By third period History I had been slammed into four lockers, had my bag emptied, been slushied, and thrown into the dumpster. It was turning out to be a great year.

-0-0-0-0-0-

I was thankful for Geometry, when I entered I saw that Brittany was in the middle of the classroom, a seat to her left held her bag, but when she saw me she moved it and motioned for me to sit down. "Hi Kurtsie, I like your new outfit. Why'd you change though? The other one was nice too?"

I honestly didn't want to worry the innocent girl, so I mumbled something about the hues of the school clashing with my other shirt and she seemed to buy it. As the classroom filled around me I took in the other students. Two girls were gabbing in front of us, a bigger African-American girl with the best hair I had ever seen and a tiny Asian girl with blue streaks mixed in to her black hair. I was intrigued, I had to talk to them. I crouched down in between them and whispered, "Hey, I'm Kurt. I couldn't help but notice your awesome fashion sense and fantastic hair. Care to eat lunch together later?" The girls looked at each other, than back to me, "Sure" they said at the same time. Then our teacher walked in, so we had to stop talking, but for once, I felt like school might be ok.


	11. Chapter 11

When Geometry was over I met the two girls in the hall to make our way to lunch. Brittany ran out, gave me a quick hug and said she would call me tonight, she had to meet up with Santana. I tried to remember back to roll call and recall the names of the girls I was walking with. I think Tina was the Asian, which would make the other girl Mercedes. I tried to think about their last names when it hit me, "Tina, is your mom a doctor?"

She looked at me a little oddly, but answered me, "Um, she's a nutritionist, but yea, she's a doctor. Why?"

"She's my nutritionist." I answered quietly. I didn't want to start off a friendship lying to the girls, and while I still had some trust issues, I figured I had to start somewhere.

Mercedes laid a gentle hand on my shoulder, "Well Kurt, you seem to be looking well, so I guess she's doing her job." She smiled at me, her dark eyes sparkling in a way I've never seen before – not many people look me straight in the eyes to the point I can actually SEE their eyes. Maybe – just maybe – I had found people I could be friends with.

We spent the rest of lunch talking about fashion and music, the two things I know better than anyone I've ever met, male or female. Tina was shocked by how much I knew about Lady Gaga's life before she became a pop sensation and how I was able to find the deeper meaning in her songs, while Mercedes couldn't stop gushing over my impeccable taste in clothing, hair, and makeup and was trying to find a way to convince me to give her a total makeover.

The bell rang, signaling that we had to go our separate ways, but we exchanged numbers and promised to call or text tonight.

The rest of the day went well, considering I was still stuck in a school full of bullies, but knowing that when I got out of the shop tonight I had people to talk to made my day go by easier.

-0-0-0-0-0-

"Hey kiddo, you seem to have a little spring in your step. I take it your first day went ok?" Dad asked after barely glancing at me as I walked in to the shop.

I started gushing about Tina and Mercedes and our plans to talk tonight, as well as how great Brittany had been the last few days and her promise to call me. Dad made a gruff noise, one which I assumed meant "glad you're making friends, but what about guys to hang out with and watch football with?". It was a question I had been asking myself all day – why did guys not approach me? I mean, yea, I dress in designer clothes, sometimes my accessories can be a little over the top, but they're all mens clothing, it's not like I'm in drag. And, yes, my voice is a little higher than it should be, but does it really matter? I just haven't hit that stage of puberty yet.

I continued musing about the reasons guys wouldn't talk to me while putting new brakes on a corvette. I was coveting the car more than working on it – yes it was pretty, but what I was really thinking about was how great it would be to have my own car – not necessarily a corvette, just a car.

When I finally got done with it, it was time for me to leave the shop and start on my homework. I started on the mile trek home, texting Mercedes as I went.

**K: Hey, it's Kurt. I just got off work and was going to start on our homework – have you started it yet?**

**M: Oh hey Kurt. Not yet. I took Artie shopping for some back to school clothes. **

Please don't tell me she has a boyfriend… Not that I want to be Mercedes boyfriend, but I didn't want to have to compete for her attention before we were even close friends.

**K: Who's Artie? You're brother?**

**M: Haha. No, he's one of my best friends. He's in a wheelchair, so can't drive himself, and his dad was really busy at the law firm so didn't have time and asked me to take him.**

Oh, just a best friend? That I can deal with… maybe I could be friends with him too.

**K: Oh, well that's nice of you. I'd like to meet Artie sometime, you seem to really like him so I don't doubt that I would too.**

**M: That's a great idea! We were both going to try out for the new glee club at school. Now that Mr. Ryerson is gone I think it will be ok for us to join.**

Glee club? As in singing with other people? If there was a big group of people at school that would sing with each other, and even in front of an audience, than maybe they would be accepting of me… it's worth a try.

**K: Oh, there's a new glee club?**

**M: Yea, it'll be great. I'm pretty sure Tina and Artie are going to audition too.**

**K: Ok cool. So where are auditions being held? And do you know if I need to come with something specific prepared? **

Now I was freaking out. I didn't want to get pushed to the side because I didn't have something ready. I hadn't really been keeping up on my practicing, what with homeschooling, the shop, having to go see Dr. Cohen-Chang…

**M: I think Mr. Shuester just wants us to sing something – I don't think it has to be anything specific, just a song. And auditions will be in the auditorium, it's near the art and music rooms.**

**K: Ok, that won't be too bad. When are auditions?**

**M: Tomorrow after school. The sign up sheet went up this afternoon, but we have until auditions are over to put our name down and go in when Mr. Shuester calls us.**

**K: Ok cool. I guess I need to go then. Homework then practice.**

**M: Good luck! Call me if you need help with anything.**

**K: Will do. See you tomorrow.**

I made a promise to myself right then and there. I would stop at nothing to be part of that glee club. Dad had told me I needed to be part of something at school, plus it was singing – something I liked to do. It would be an easy way to make friends – and if I was part of something, maybe the bullying would stop.

I quickly worked my way through the geometry problems, then turned on my iPod and started looking through my songs to find something. I knew I struck gold when I had hit my show-stoppers playlist, the first song – Mr. Cellophane.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Long chapter ahead. Last chapter…**

After we auditioned, Tina, Mercedes, Artie and I went to the library to study a bit. Dad had given me the afternoon off of work since I was doing school stuff. The four of us talked about how the first couple days of school had gone and what we thought about the glee club. I was a little worried because it was us four plus this Rachel girl, I couldn't speak for the others but Rachel really, really annoyed me. We hadn't actually started Glee practice though, we only heard each others auditions from the hall, and heard Rachel's spiel about her being a star. I hated that people thought their biggest problem was not being noticed, when I had tried to go unnoticed.

It was the end of the week and Mr. Shuester had not gotten in touch with us for information about Glee. That week had been the longest week ever; I only got to talk to Tina and Mercedes during lunch, and only texted Brittany, as she was always busy with Santana, Puck, or the Cherrios. Saturday was the worst day. Tina went out of town, Mercedes and Artie went shopping, and Brittany was in practice all day. Dad was in the shop, and I had no one to do anything with. My homework was done, I wasn't needed at the shop, and tv wasn't interesting.

I started cleaning my room, when I noticed the razor and pills in my bottom drawer of my desk. I had forgotten I stashed them there. I didn't really feel the need to cut as I had before school started, but holding the thin blade in my hand made the thought tempting. I didn't relish the idea of going back to the hospital, or God forbid the rehab center, so I simply popped two of the pills, thinking that maybe I would get a little numbing feel-good feeling going, and went on cleaning.

-0-0-0-0-0-

The next week Mr. Shuester found each of us and informed us that Glee club practice would be every Tuesday and Thursday after school for two hours. We had to get our parents to sign a permission form and then we would be good to go. Dad signed right away, saying not to worry about the two days off from work. When I handed in the form, I finally felt like I belonged somewhere. I was still being bullied, but now it was because I was part of Glee, not because I was an outsider, or different. It was better this way.

When I told my dad I had gotten into the Glee club (which wasn't hard to do, everyone got in), he mumbled a congrats and kept working on the old Chevy truck he was under. I got back to work on the Lincoln Navigator I had been assigned to. It was only after I had finished it that I was told that was MY Navigator. Dad bought me a car.

I texted Mercedes and Tina as soon as I found out about my car, both congratulated me, but didn't say much otherwise. I found myself lonely again – celebrating my new car on my own. I guess once a loner always a loner.

-0-0-0-0-0-

As the weeks went on we gained new members in the Glee club. Brittany, Santana, and Puck joined, as did Quinn, miss head Cherrio herself and Finn, the best looking guy I had ever seen. And yes, I admit at this point I was gay. I couldn't not be with that guy around. Just because I admitted to myself I was gay doesn't mean I could tell everyone though. I hid it from Mercedes, telling her I liked Rachel when she had all but asked me to go steady, and that got my windows broken on my baby.

So I tried the whole straight thing, I got Brittany to agree to make out with me, see if I liked it. It was horrible. But the one thing I noticed, is when I started talking to my friends, having real conversations, not made up niceties, I stopped being so damned depressed. Yea, it was still hard, and coming out to my father was next to impossible, but it was doable, and it made things better.

-0-0-0-0-0-

My junior year was hard. When my life was threatened I knew I couldn't be at that school anymore. I talked to my dad, knowing things were rough around the edges, but I knew he wouldn't want me to be in trouble. We had a long hard chat, our little family of me, Dad, Finn, and Carole. This was the first time Finn and Carole had heard about my depression, suicide attempts, and general sucky first year of high school. Finn was shocked at how well I had been the last year.

"Honestly Finn, it was thanks to you and the rest of New Directions. We may not have always seen eye to eye, but at least I had people who were supportive of me. If things with Karofsky settle down then I'll try to come back." I had started to cry, letting people in was still hard, none of my friends knew about my suicide attempts. I hoped Finn would keep it a secret.

I told Dad about Dalton Academy and how Blaine told me there was a zero tolerance for bullying. I told him I would apply for scholarships, take a job outside of the shop, anything to get me in there. He told me that he and Carole would get me there.

-0-0-0-0-0-

When things started getting serious with Blaine and I, I knew I had to tell him about my past. We'd worked through bad relationship choices on his end, me going back to New Directions, and our horrible summer apart while he worked at Six Flags. When he came to McKinley, I knew we were in this for the long-haul.

I told him about my horrible Freshman year, how I wanted nothing more than to die. And how, the big reason I had to go back to New Directions last semester had more to do with those guys being my saviors than my friends. He understood, the Warblers were kind of like that for him. Now that we had each other we could stop relying on our music groups to be supportive, but I would never forget New Directions, the friendship I got from spending a few hours a week with a group of kids, so different, but so alike – everyone just needing somewhere we weren't judged for being ourselves. I'm proud to say that even when things got rough, I didn't go back to wanting to die. I didn't drink out of desperation for the dull numbing feeling. I didn't pop pills in hopes of forgetting the day. I didn't cut anymore, I preferred my blood to stay under my skin now, the skin I cared to much for, the skin that some people didn't understand my fascination of my daily and nightly regiments. Everything was done to keep me alive now, I had a good life, not perfect, but there were good parts to it. I didn't want to miss any of it.


	13. Chapter 13

So, this may seem a little odd, but I'm posting this to tell all of you that have put this story on alert that you need to re-read the last chapter… I updated it, and I don't think it sent out emails that it had been changed… and I don't want you sitting there, not knowing how the story ended because you don't think it updated… sorry for the rambling… now it's time for me to start working on a new story. Any ideas you want me to incorporate?


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